Admissions
by TitansRule
Summary: In the midst of a serial killer investigation comes a new case that sickens everyone and Jess realises just how lucky she is to have a best friend like Don. Story #41 in my 'Kindred Spirits' series.


**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY.  
****Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.  
****Spoilers: **_**Admissions**_** – big ones, because this ep creeped me out in the worst ways.**

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Admissions

It had been a long week.

The murder of a popular teacher at an exclusive high school had sent ripples of outrage through the city, not least because it diverted NYPD's attention away from what the press had dubbed 'the Cabbie Killer'.

Once again proving that connections were everything in New York City, the number of important alumni meant that Don had been pulled off the Cabbie Killer and assigned to the teacher case.

Jess had endured an hour's ranting about bureaucracy and spineless bosses before promising Don that she'd cover the Cabbie Killer for him and keep him posted.

Now, the week was over, it was Friday evening and she'd just gotten back from a routine call.

What she found was anything but routine.

"Where have you been?" Don asked, striding towards her.

"Closure." Jess answered, knowing what he meant. It wasn't a required part of the job, but Jess liked to visit the families of victim's after the case was closed and let them know personally that justice had been served. "Why?"

"Need your help." Don answered shortly, grasping her arm and all but dragging her through the precinct towards the locker room. "Jesse Carver killed Robert Greggs."

Jess gave herself a second to run the first name through her mind. "That's … Wait, that's Natalie Gerard's ex-boyfriend, right?" She asked, remembering the whispers when he'd been brought in.

"Right." Don confirmed. "Lindsay talked to Natalie and …" He took a deep breath and Jess could see him trying to keep his composure. "Natalie said that he'd taken her to a party, gotten her drunk – probably put something in her drink – took her home and raped her, but he wasn't alone."

"Son of a bitch!" Jess hissed.

"Oh, that's not the worst part." Don told her, heavily. "She realised he was going to do the same thing to someone else and reported him to Mr. Greggs. Semen on the dress she was wearing matched Jesse and his father … only they're not father and son. They're convicted sex-offenders. Jesse's 32 years old."

As they entered the locker room, Jess could only stumble to the nearest trash can and vomit into it.

Don pulled her hair back and rubbed her back until she'd finished. "You okay?"

"No." Jess straightened up and leaned against the wall. "God, that's sick." She was struck by a horrible thought. "Does Natalie know?"

Don sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Her father insisted that she was there when we filled him in."

It was then Jess noticed the sound of running water. "She locked herself in the shower, didn't she?"

"Yeah." Don grimaced. "Listen, Jess, I know you hate dealing with crying women as much as me, but …"

"I got this." Jess interrupted. "Don't worry."

Don squeezed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Jessie."

"Don't call me that!" Jess called after him. She stopped off at her locker to get a breath mint and a towel, before finding the cubicle Natalie was in and knocking on the door.

"Go away!" A voice shouted, the words barely discernable through tears.

"Natalie, my name's Detective Angell." Jess said. "I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to anyone."

Jess sighed. "Do you want a towel, at least? It's gotta be getting cold in there."

There was a pause, then the lock clicked and the door opened a fraction. "Yes please."

Jess handed the towel through the gap and sat down, leaning against the wall. She wasn't surprised when the door shut and locked again, but she wasn't giving up. "You're not alone, you know."

"It feels like it."

Jess started slightly at the response, not expecting one. "Why's that?"

"My dad's a cop." She answered quietly. "And I fell for it anyway."

"Natalie, we interrogated him and thought he was a teenager." Jess said. "You couldn't have known."

"I feel like an idiot." Natalie muttered.

"Yeah, I know." Jess sighed. "But it wasn't your fault. He was a good actor. And he was charming. And he knew what to say to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world that mattered."

The door opened again to reveal a seventeen-year-old girl wrapped in a towel. "How'd you know?"

Jess smiled weakly. "Because he's not the only man in the world with that gift. You got a change of clothes?"

Natalie shook her head and Jess got to her feet. "Alright, let's see what I can find." She led the girl back to the main changing area, knowing that Don had locked the door on his way out, and rummaged through her locker. She managed to find a spare pair of sweats and an NYPD hoody and Natalie changed into them gratefully.

Jess waited until she was dressed before trying to get her to talk again, but Natalie surprised her once more by starting the conversation.

"Do you think I'll ever be able to trust a man again?"

"You will." Jess told her. "If you find the right man."

"How do I do that?" Natalie asked quietly, sitting next to her.

"Well, first of all, you accept that what happened was _not_ your fault." Jess told her firmly.

"But Dad …" Natalie began.

Jess felt a surge of anger towards every single male cop who felt that a woman was asking for it if she got drunk or wore a short skirt (and, unfortunately, there were still some around). "I don't give a crap what your father told you, Natalie; this was not your fault. Detective Flack said you reported him because he was going to do the same thing to another girl?"

Natalie nodded. "Lacey."

"The punch was non-alcoholic, right?" Jess checked.

"Yeah." Natalie agreed.

"So Lacey hadn't been drinking that evening." Jess nodded. "He still would have raped her though, wouldn't he?"

"Of course; he's a … a …" Natalie pulled a face, anger in her eyes. "I don't even know what to call him."

"I know." Jess squeezed her arm. "Nothing seems quite bad enough, does it? Whatever you'd done that night, he would have hurt you."

"Dad wants me to talk to someone." Natalie confessed, her feelings towards the idea abundantly clear.

"Well …" Jess began slowly, knowing that she needed to word this carefully. "Most of the time talking helps, but I can understand if you don't want to see a professional and it needs to be when _you_ feel ready to talk about it. Forcing it isn't going to help. But I want you to try and do something for me."

"What?" Natalie asked warily.

"Every day, look at yourself in the mirror and say, "This wasn't my fault" over and over again until you start to believe it." Jess told her.

Natalie smiled weakly. "And when I do? And I feel like I can date again?"

Jess sighed. "You wait."

"Wait?" Natalie repeated, sounding confused.

"Wait." Jess confirmed. "There are a lot of guys who will want only one thing from you; wait and don't give it to them."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Dad tell you to say that?"

Jess laughed. "No. No, I haven't seen your father recently. You wait and the guys who are in it for that one thing will give up and leave, because they can get it a lot easier from other women."

"And then I get my heart broken." Natalie whispered. "Right?"

"Maybe." Jess agreed, pulling a clean tissue from her pocket and using it to wipe Natalie's tears away. "But then you'll find a guy who won't walk away, who'll wait with you until you're ready. And that guy will restore all faith in men."

At that moment, a gunshot echoed through the room and Jess sprung to her feet, drawing her weapon and pushing Natalie behind her in one movement.

"What was that?" Natalie whispered, a slight whimper evident in her voice.

"I don't know." Jess glanced over her shoulder. "Stay here." She moved to the door and unlocked it, her grip unwavering on her piece.

The bullpen was still, motionless, and she hurried through into the corridor where the interrogation rooms were.

Lowering her gun, but not relinquishing her grip, Jess pushed her way through the crowd, spotting Wallace Carver – or whatever his real name was – in cuffs between two uniformed officers. "Get him outta here."

She didn't wait to see if they did as they were told, stopping dead in the doorway beside her partner, who was standing dumbstruck beside Mac and Stella.

A man she assumed to be Jesse Carver was lying on the ground, a bullet hole between his eyes. Deputy Inspector Stan Gerrard stood over him, gun in hand.

Part of Jess wanted to applaud the man. The rest wanted to knock some sense into him. Sure, it was unlikely there'd be a conviction. But _something_ would have to be done. They'd _have_ to arrest him, or IA would be all over it.

Natalie needed her father with her. Not waiting for the politics to play out.

Jess closed her eyes and holstered her weapon, nudging Don as she did so, drawing him out of his shock.

Slowly, almost numbly, Don moved forwards, gently prying the gun out of his superior's hand. Their eyes met for a second and Gerrard nodded, allowing Don to steer him out of the room.

Don gave her a sharp look over Gerrard's head and, as was the nature of their partnership, she needed nothing more to return to the locker room, telling the nearest officer to contact Gerrard's sister so she could collect her niece.

Natalie was standing where Jess had left her, her face white as chalk. "What happened?"

Jess took a deep breath. "Jesse can't hurt you anymore, Natalie; he's dead."

"Daddy?" Natalie guessed shakily.

Jess nodded.

"What's going to happen to him?" Natalie asked.

"I can't see any jury being anything less than sympathetic." Jess told her. "But we have to do our jobs. Your aunt's on her way to pick you up."

Natalie nodded, closing her eyes as tears began to spill out of them.

Jess hesitated for only a second, before opening her arms to the young girl, not surprised when she accepted the hug. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing; had it really only been an hour since she was dragged into this?

She wasn't sure how long it was before an officer came in and tapped her on the shoulder, telling her that Natalie's aunt had arrived.

She wasn't sure how long it was before Don entered the locker room to find her standing at her locker, her head leaning against the cool metal as she tried to shake the image of Natalie's stricken face from her mind.

"Hey." Don greeted softly. "You okay?"

"Why?" Jess asked quietly. "Natalie wasn't their first victim. Why did no one say anything? Are we that bad, Don? Do we have a sign outside that says 'Don't bother walking in if you're a rape victim; no one's gonna believe you'?"

"Jess …"

"They're never gonna trust men again, you know that?" Jess continued, ignoring his interruption. "They are scarred for life, and I don't mean physically."

"Jess, he never …" Don trailed off, but there was no question who 'he' was and what he never did.

"No." Jess assured him, turning to face him. "But he still broke my heart. What Jesse …"

"Hank." Don corrected.

"What Hank did," Jess amended, "is worse than a normal rapist, because they trusted him, maybe even loved him, and he violated that trust in the worst possible way." She sighed. "Have I ever said thank you?"

"For what?" Don asked, sounding confused.

Jess smiled weakly. "Before I met you, I didn't think I'd ever truly trust a man again. Maybe at work, yes, but definitely not outside of it."

"I didn't do anything, Jess." Don made a sudden movement, as though he wanted to reach out and touch her face, but decided against it.

"You're my best friend," Jess corrected, "and showed me that not all guys are complete assholes. So thank you."

This time, Don did reach out to her, catching her hand and pulling her into his arms. "You never need to thank me for that, Jess. I'm just treating you the way you should be treated."

Jess felt him press a kiss to her forehead and buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent that seemed to linger around and, for the first time since that conversation in her living room, when the cold reality of the Cabbie Killer became clear to them, she truly believed that everything would somehow be alright.

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AN: Review please!**


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